It's the Thought that Should Count
by OpheliacAngel
Summary: Everyone has secrets, but Karl's naivety may just cost him this round. Because, according to Karl, it's the thought of her that should earn him points. A fill on my h/c bingo card for 'skeletons in the closet.' Post 'The Withering.'


**Title:** It's the Thought that Should Count (Or: Every Quest Has a Hero After a Girl's Heart)

 **Author:** OpheliacAngel

 **Pairings:** Karl/Essie

 **Genres:** Friendship/Romance

 **Rating:** Teen

 **Summary:** Everyone has secrets, but Karl's naivety may just cost him this round. Because, according to Karl, it's the thought of her that should earn him points.

 **A/N:** A fill on my h/c_bingo card for 'skeletons in the closet.' Post 'The Withering.'

 **Soundtrack:** Ashes Divide's 'Too Late'

* * *

 _~I will not lose you_

 _To the dark or to the night_

 _To the terrible machine_

 _Never let you lose your light~_

* * *

Karl never knows quite what to say to Essie.

Most of the time he just bites his tongue, as he tended to do in high school, rather than say something to a girl that he would regret later on. It wasn't something he should have worried about back then, and there were a lot of things he shouldn't have worried about then. He had been a popular guy in school, which was what being on the football team usually entailed. The in-girls practically swooned over him and the ones who weren't popular ogled him without getting too close. Either way, he could have had his pick. But just because he was popular and could have had any girl he wanted, it didn't mean he knew what to say to girls, didn't mean he could engage in small talk with them without getting tongue-tied, even if that small talk was ridiculously small.

What could he have said? He got nervous, he got so freaked out sometimes that he thought he would never make it through another day.

Too bad things haven't changed much. Except there's a surprising lack of girls falling over him now, and the one he wants is the one who isn't exactly drooling over him. Not that he would want that, but still, the lack of obvious interest does make winning her all the more harder.

So Essie, what to say to Essie Rachimova...

Or maybe he shouldn't say anything at all. Except he can't exactly do that either, stand there and pretend that he doesn't fancy her when they've got all this time together. Essie may act too good for all of them, unfazed by their games and wishing she were a million miles away, but she does have a heart that Karl has seen. She does care about the Experiment and even _them_. And Karl, by the way, is one of them. Essie may be steering away from Marty on most occasions, just so she won't be badgered by him, or she may be ignoring Drew just as well as he pays no mind to the rest of them, as if they're all merely his cell buddies, but she does hang around Merrill quite a lot, and not just because they share a room, and Karl wonders if he can squeeze his way through that gap. The gap that Merrill has unknowingly left him.

Because he isn't like lovestruck Drew, preoccupied by his drawings, and he isn't like Marty either, who he suspects sometimes doesn't give a damn about any one of them.

He may be young and inexperienced, but he doesn't think Essie resents him for that. He also thinks that maybe she doesn't care, either way, and that he should just stop this whole charade.

But he can't, because there's this thing called a heart that he's not supposed to still have beating away furiously in his chest. There's this piece of himself aching for Essie, for her smile and her golden locks and the strong, acidic scent of her nail polish as it permeates through every one of his senses. There's Essie, sitting across the table, painting on her nails while Professor Murdoch lectures, though by the lines of concentration etched onto her fine, delicate features he can tell she's listening to every word.

The rest of them don't see her, not the way Karl does. Essie is a whole lot more than just pretty or smart or even just deadly. She's someone that cares and worries and stresses just like they all do, she just knows how to hide it well enough that everyone else is fooled. She's someone that Karl imagines himself settling down with post-school, down the road a little ways. In a nice house after this whole Experiment works and they supposedly save the world, once Essie realizes that Karl has her best interests at heart.

Once he realizes what those interests are.

Essie sighs from across the table and Karl quickly looks away from her before she glances up, or catches him watching out of the corner of her eye. Professor Murdoch's prattling on about tapping into your inner self, and while Merrill looks intense about it, the others couldn't be more depressed with the current situation. Karl stares down at the pad of paper he's been doodling on rather than taking notes.

Finding his inner self? He can do that.

As long as that search starts with Essie.

* * *

Professor Murdoch releases them from class a little earlier, excited to see what they make of their essays. No researching required is good, they're still stuck on the inner self, but the Professor says they're going to have to work hard delving deep inside themselves for answers. Karl stares down at the half piece of paper resting on his closed notebook.

 _Write one-thousand words detailing a part of yourself that you have left neglected and would like to strive to nurture._

This sounds like some of this self-help crap that his parents tried to get him on when he tried drugs for the first time. If only he could have told them then that he would later on have much bigger problems than drugs. Now he's distracted by dozens of other things: the next meal, what trouble Marty's getting up to now and why Karl doesn't want to be a part of it like he always had to be pre-vampire, what Drew's new drawing of Sherry looks like and - does he _really_ have to say it? - _Essie._ He whacks his pencil against the table for a few minutes, trying to think of something off the top of his head, trying to will one word to just pop up and somehow allow everything to make sense. Merrill always tells them to start outlines, so as soon as he thinks of something he can jot it down and then delve later.

Essie shoots him a look across the table to stop making noise and he does, smiling apologetically over at her. She doesn't smile back, but goes back to twirling her own pencil around a lock of her hair, clearly thinking. Karl had to do a double take when Essie failed to leave the table and retreat to the room she shared with Merrill immediately after the lecture. It was even more shocking that she didn't follow the others' lead after they all left, one by one, but here she stayed. Just across the table. Prime for conversation.

He clears his throat and glances up at her, though it's without hesitation he's still prepared to flick his eyes away. "Think of anything yet?"

No more glares; he considers that a small victory. Essie takes a long look at him and then lowers her eyes, as if she's ashamed of something in a way similar to Karl being ashamed and scared of everything involving Essie Rachimova. She tosses her hair back and taps her pencil against the table, the sight leading Karl to bite back a smile. Regardless of whatever it was that caused her to look away, Essie's eyes flash back to him in a way that seems more inevitable than sudden. "No." She puts her pencil down and looks over at him pensively. "You?"

He relaxes under her somewhat scrutinizing gaze; Essie may seem hard around the edges, but she's really soft at the core. "Nah. Can't pin one thing down long enough. Merrill said something about her compassionate side, but I think she's always had that."

Essie stares straight through Karl, clearly passing him over for the essay again, and whatever hope Karl had had is vanquished now. He looks down and stares back intently at the small sheet of paper, mocking him but also giving him something else to focus on. He finds himself disappointed in Essie but even more disappointed in himself. The fact is, he hasn't had much experience with any of this, trying to talk to girls, trying to connect with them. Except Essie's not a girl, she's clearly a woman, more specifically a vampire who's over a hundred years old. Even if Karl had had practice with high school girls, he doubts any of it would have helped him in this.

Essie's not exactly the easiest person to relate to, mostly because she won't let him understand her enough to find things to relate to. These are all probably signs that Karl should have given up a long time ago, probably when these feelings first began. He always told Essie he would be there for her though, and even though he's pretty much a baby in the vampire world, he values his promises as being most important of all.

His disappointment is shattered once he notices her blinking and then glancing down at where his eyes had just a moment ago been trained. "We should start that outline first. I'll throw some ideas around, then you can. Sound good?"

The breath goes out of him in a whoosh then, and he can just barely form a smile.

"Sounds great."

They exchange ideas for a good hour or two before Essie excuses herself and leaves the room. He definitely can't begrudge her leaving, he can't believe she stayed as long as she did. Karl doesn't know quite what she's settled on as a topic, but he's content with the decision he ended up with, one that Essie seemed to promote more than any other idea Karl suggested: honing in more on the softer side of himself, though he doesn't know whether to be more specific than that or just take it in a general direction. Truth be told, he really has to give all credit to Essie, since she came up with the idea after all.

And he wonders what that means, that she thinks he has a softer side. That she's calling him out on it?

He picks up his pencil again, finds a clean sheet of paper free of doodles and starts jotting down a few words, forming branches that extend out from the cloud that holds his subject. _Balance. Precision. Think before acting._ He's strong and he knows that Professor Murdoch has been hinting at him to widen that limitation, to depend on himself for other things than tackling someone to the ground. _Try outmaneuvering them_ , the Professor's words float back to him, as if life is a game of chess or something. _Out thinking them._

He may just be able to write this essay and all thanks to Essie.

* * *

They end up reading their essays in front of the class, which they only end up doing about half of the time. Karl's gotten used to it, after all, what has he to fear from four vampires such as himself? Even if they are significantly older it doesn't mean they're any wiser; in fact, it means the exact opposite in Marty's case. Karl's become quite comfortable in his new home, and while sometimes he longs to see more of the outside world, he knows that this is his place for now. There's no need to rush anything, right?

For his essay, Karl focuses on things he never had time to long for in high school. There are a lot of things he never thought about back then, things he should have never done, or at least wishes he could have done differently. There's a lot he wishes he did do too, though they're mainly things he wishes he could have done as a vampire before being whisked away here.

So, things to work on: relying on his brain rather than just his muscle, listening and observing, seeing a bigger picture rather than just his role. He knew the Professor would love that last one.

It was hard to stay detailed, even harder to stay on topic while he wondered what Essie wanted to improve on, but he kept writing until he was at least mostly satisfied with his finished piece. He had looked around after putting some finishing touches on the paper and noticed that the others had finished a long time ago: Merrill sat reading a new book, Drew was back to his sketching and Marty, who was never too likely to take anything seriously, was playing chess with himself. He had scoffed at the sight, wondering if he had badgered poor Merrill into helping him _again_.

He wonders now as he had wondered then before blocking it forcefully out of his mind, whether Marty nags Merrill for the same reasons that Karl does Essie, or at least wants to. But Marty's different, Marty doesn't care about anyone but himself, and Marty probably realizes that good grades are in his future if he relies on Merrill more than he relies on himself.

In the end, it isn't something he enjoys thinking about.

Everyone claps when he finishes reading, even Professor Murdoch. If he didn't receive the Professor's 'good job, Karl,' then he would still be able to tell by the look on his face that he's proud of him. Essie's clapping too, eyes wide and bright and hopeful, brighter than Karl has ever seen them.

Even when she was dying less than a week ago, aging before his very eyes, he had never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

As high as he feels in this moment, however, Essie seems distant later on and it's clear that she doesn't want to talk to anyone. There wasn't anything particularly telling or overly painful in her essay, but Karl's sure she must have wrote it painstakingly to come out that way, as if she believes wholeheartedly that no one wants to hear about the _real_ Essie.

Karl doesn't get it because one moment Essie burns hot and then the next cold, but then within a blink of an eye goes hot again, like no one can even try to eradicate the fire within her. Her essay was great, even Professor Murdoch praised her for her efforts, but Karl knows that in Essie's eyes sometimes it isn't enough. He knows she expects too much of herself when it comes to assignments, all because they tie into the Experiment and not letting Professor Murdoch down, which essentially means not turning their back on the world and on the humans they share it with. Essie pushes herself as much as Merrill does, but the difference is that she would rather burn up than let anyone know about it. Except Karl knows, too well, and he respects her so damn much because of it.

Essie's a lot deeper than she'd even like to believe and it drives Karl crazy sometimes, wondering whether anyone else knows it besides himself. He also can't completely shut away the walls she puts up to dissuade him from chasing her. Maybe not _him_ specifically, but you get the point.

So he definitely knows better than to enter her room and knock on the lid of her coffin, which has been firmly shut, knows better than to try to talk to her.

Karl doesn't care though. Maybe being young means being stupid, and it probably does, but Karl can be stupid for all the right reasons too. And Essie will always be the right reason.

"Hey! You hiding in there?"

"Go away, Karl!"

He wouldn't be who he is if he just walked away though, he'd be breaking the promise he already made to Essie before even a week was out, whether she realizes it or not. The promise that he would always be there for her, even if she didn't want it. Regardless, he does consider leaving and coming back later, but the notion doesn't sway him even though Merrill is watching him warily from the doorway, as if ready to prove to herself that Karl is this stupid and reckless. Karl's convinced himself that being a good person is being _this_ , this caring, worried, thoughtful person, who never wants to leave Essie as prey to her thoughts and memories.

He tries again. He'll try again and again until he gets it right, even if she hates him for it. "Come on, Essie. We all hate it when you sit and sulk in there, we would much rather prefer you do it out here, in the open." Where he can do something about it. "Please," he throws in, though not sure if the added word will just push her further away or cause her to give in.

Karl thinks about offering something else, maybe a game of chess so she can give him a beat-down, or a night out bowling so she can beat him at that too. Essie loves winning. Or even just a foot massage, where she can just sit back, relax and not worry about anything. If Essie likes anything it's people doing things for her, and Karl is never happier than when he's around Essie, no matter what he's doing.

Yet there's a scared little girl inside Essie too, a scared little girl that Karl wants to _protect_.

The lid opens slowly, but Essie is up and on her feet before he can see her lying down. He almost steps back, not startled so much by how quick Essie moves but rather that she thinks she needs to be on her guard around Karl. He could ask her about that, but he suspects that Essie will shut down if he asks her one too many questions, and he doesn't want to waste the questions he's already formed in his head, where he miraculously still has enough room after all of Professor Murdoch's lectures.

"Writing that essay dredged up some stuff, huh?" She crosses her arms and huffs at him, refusing to give him an answer. That's all the answer he needs. "If you ever need to talk, Essie, I'm always around somewhere, you know? Nowhere much else to go."

She bites her lip, one droplet of blood peeking out from beneath the skin. Karl steps forward, about to wipe it away with his thumb, but Essie takes a step back, part of her face obscured in the shadow of the now upturned lid of her coffin. Karl's eyes widen at her blatant display of mistrust and vulnerability, but he's not about to stop now even with the warning bells going off in his head. "I'm not who you think I am, Karl."

Karl nods, he understands that completely. "No," he admits. "You're more." Essie scoffs at that, shaking her head as if Karl's a mere boy she's disappointed in for some obscure reason. Karl frowns. Her words were meant to cut him and they have, but not as deep as she thinks. He doesn't always understand why Essie acts the way she acts, especially towards _him._ He thought she would have learned better by now, or at least learned better how to hide it. "Why do you do that? Treat me like I'm some boy?"

No hesitation this time; with this topic he expected not. "Because you _are_ a boy, Karl. We may look the same age, but I have decades on you. You don't understand love because you've never lived it, and for that you're wasting my time."

His mouth drops open and he laughs, one sharp, harsh laugh that sounds like a joke to his ears. Essie never was harsh with him before, not like this. He knew she had it in her but he never thought that she would be so careless, so cold, so unforgiving of Karl and all his faults. All the faults she - _they_ \- think he has. They should have that as their topic for their next essay, maybe he'll even put in a request to Professor Murdoch. "So just because I've never dated anyone for over three months, that means I can't possibly love you, or know how to love you. Is that what you're saying?"

"Karl." A word of warning because if anyone could give it, it would be Essie.

He laughs again, finds he can still look at her even with the way she's looking at him, like she's mad at herself for being weak and not putting her foot down earlier. Like she's mad at him for standing here, although that assumption's pretty obvious. He also realizes how he would give anything for her, just to make her open her eyes and _see_. Why does everyone step on him and laugh at him like it's nothing, like it'll help him grow? He may be relatively new to this world he now finds himself in, but he also knows beyond a doubt that he's the only one here, in this Experiment, that knows what they really want.

"Because I do, Essie. I'm not saying it, not now, because clearly I'm upsetting you. But I do care about you and I will wait as long as it takes."

He'll be damned if he's going to let Essie get him down like everyone else has. Sure, he's behind all the others in age and experience and skill, but what do they expect? They all got to have their fun already and he was pretty much shipped here before he could get a taste of the world with his new eyes, before he could destroy a little and actually _live_ a little. He just traded his old life with rules and expectations and responsibilities for a new life with all of that, except now the entire world is hanging on him.

His head's not buried in the sand though, not like everyone else's is. He knows what all this essay writing and self-reflection stuff is too, while everyone lingers in it like there will be no tomorrow. Professor Murdoch is preparing them, getting them ready for the final fight.

Making them _want_ to fight.

Essie's still looking at him, she's never had her eyes on him for this long before and he can see her experience, her history, her _legacy._ He can see how far she's risen and how far she's fallen, can see the whole world in her eyes, a whole world that he has never known. If only Essie would show it to him, if only she would take him _inside_.

It doesn't make him any less of a person for not knowing, for wanting.

Karl realizes too late that he's said the last part out loud. He stares down at the floor sheepishly after catching a glimpse of Essie's open mouth out of the corner of his eye. To be honest, Karl didn't even think that would affect her.

He waits. He doesn't know how long he waits. He supposes he'll wait forever, even skipping his next meal, to see what she'll say next. It will be even likelier that she doesn't say anything in return, as if he hasn't earned that.

A sigh that could almost be mistaken for a laugh. "I knew someone before. He died for all the wrong reasons."

 _And I couldn_ _'t save him,_ goes the unspoken sentence. Karl has learned to read Essie better than anyone, even better than himself at times. He just didn't realize that this was what was pulled up out of Essie's memories. He wishes there could have been another way too.

"Essie, I'm not gonna die. Not now anyway. Unless you kill me." There's no smile, no laugh, only the sight that he wishes he could take away of a horrible dread creeping onto her face, freezing her in place so perfectly but for all the wrong reasons, and the fact that Karl can't save her from that fear anymore than he can prevent himself from dying either. They are here right now though, safe, just another day after school. "Essie," he starts, not knowing if it'll help anything.

"I need time, Karl. You can keep doing what you're doing, but don't push me anymore."

She doesn't say wait for me, but he knew she never would, not in so many words anyway. She also doesn't say go away, get lost, leave me alone for the rest of my existence unless we're required in some school project. It's not perfect, none of this is, neither of them are.

So why does Karl feel so good then?

* * *

A new day, a new lecture, new holes chewed into Karl's number two pencil.

Essie's half-hidden smile across the table is new too, but oddly it's the only new Karl cares about.

 **FIN**


End file.
